


weird science

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Flirting, Fluff, Halloween, Haunted House Worker Newt, Haunted Houses, M/M, Meet-Cute, Professor Hermann, of the fake gimmicky variety, orig posted on tumblr, the last of my seasonally appropriate october ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 06:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16470323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: When it’s clear the man won’t be leaping at them or stabbing himself with a retractable knife or any of the host of other things Hermann’s seen others do tonight, he can’t help but say “Are you meant to be scary?”(or: a classic "hermann gets dragged along to a corny gimmicky haunted house and newt is the fake mad scientist who keeps flirting instead of actually trying to scare him" au)





	weird science

**Author's Note:**

> this is just dumb fun hahahaha. i was gonna expand it originally but then i had no clue how to so i just made minor edits..take it
> 
> happy halloween!

The house is large, full of dark corners and artificial fog, with fake, too-red gore splattering the walls, the hardwood floors, and cobwebs—these quite possibly real—hanging from the chandeliers and wall-set candle holders. It all looks a bit like the set for some bad horror movie. Something that would come on the television at midnight that Hermann would deliberately skip over. “Forty dollars,” he sniffs, as he waits in line with Tendo, Mako, and Raleigh, “for this.”

Piercing, electronic screams drift through the shadowy doorway. The line moves forward. “Look, it’s totally worth it,” Tendo insists. “We’ve done this—what, how many times?”

“Three times,” Mako says. She smiles at Hermann. “It  _is_ fun.”

A “zombie”—face green, clothing hanging from its body, groaning—ambles past them, nearly bumping into Hermann, and Raleigh takes a small step between it and Mako.

By the time their group is ushered inside fully, three more zombies and a vampire have wandered by and Hermann is more than ready to go home. His leg isn’t aching him—not yet—but his head is, and it’s been a long day and it looks as though there are a great many stairs to climb in the house. And the flashing strobe lights aren’t helping anything. “Where first?” Tendo says, and points at a little signpost listing the different attractions the house has to offer. Knife-wielding serial killers are delegated to the dining room and kitchen, evidently, vampires to the master bedroom, bloodthirsty scarecrows to the field beyond the house and  _the undead!_  to the graveyard beyond that. “Your pick, Gottlieb!”

Whatever will get them out of here faster. There’s a large group clogging the main entrance that leads to the dining area and Hermann doesn’t particularly fancy standing around anymore, so he examines the sign for their other options. “Basement?” he says.

“The mad scientist’s lab,” Tendo says, lowering his voice ominously, "how _appropriate_ ," and Hermann sighs.

A few people in costume leap out at them on their journey to find the basement—or, the mad scientist’s lab: a man in a hockey mask wielding a bladeless (and blood-splattered) chainsaw, a villain Hermann recognizes from one of those countless 1980s slasher flicks, a murderous and fanged clown. Much to the delight of Mako, Tendo, and Raleigh, and much to the disinterest of Hermann. He spares a glance at his phone when they finally descend upon the lab. Half past nine. Hermann goes to bed early on Fridays; he would normally be in bed by now.

The mad scientist’s lab is decked out in sterile metal, flickering overhead lights, and shelves lined with strange disembodied things in jars. Hermann catches sight of some sort of animatronic Frankenstein’s monster-esque creature strapped to a metal table. That’s all there seems to be. It’s terribly anti-climatic. “Shouldn’t someone be jumping out at us?” Raleigh says, as they stand there staring.

A door swings open, and a short man in thick glasses and a lab coat stumbles in. He’s covered in more fake blood from his face to his clothing and holding what appears to be a large alien brain in a jar. “Shit!” he hisses. He nearly drops the jar in his haste to get to the side of the strapped-down creature, and he’s muttering under his breath all the while. Tendo and Mako are snickering. Hermann finds him oddly charming.

When it’s clear the man won’t be leaping at them or stabbing himself with a retractable knife or any of the host of other things Hermann’s seen others do tonight, he can’t help but say “Are you meant to be scary?”

The man prods the animatronic creature one last time and turns his attention to them once more. “Uh. Obviously,” the man says, and he holds up his bare hands. “You see any gloves here?” He taps at his glasses. “Any goggles? I’m a walking OSHA violation, man. I’m a fatal lab accident waiting to happen.” The animatronic creature suddenly jerks to life with a deep yell, sitting up ramrod-straight and fighting its bonds. The man also yells, in surprise, and he falls back and does drop the jar this time. “Fuck!  _Now_  it works.”

Hermann has a hard time stifling his laugh; his colleagues are not even trying. “Are you quite alright?” Hermann says, as green liquid and the fake rubber of the brain ooze across the floor.

The man hauls himself to his feet, brushing off his bloody lab coat, and shoots Hermann a broad smile. “Yep! Yep. All good. Technical difficulties. All minor, though.” He ducks out of sight again, presumably for a broom.

“Come on,” Tendo says, grinning, and nudges the small of Hermann’s back.

 

They wander on through the basement. The short “mad scientist” they left behind isn’t the only thing to see down there, but he was certainly the only thing that caught Hermann’s eye, and the rest of it passes by in a blur. They’re ascending the staircase once more—Hermann, slower up it on account of his cane, bringing up the rear—when a familiar face pops up in a gaping hole in the wall.

“Hi,” the mad scientist says, not making any move to shout or make a grab for Hermann. He’s just leaning on the jagged wood.

“Hello,” Hermann says, and frowns. “Shouldn’t you be—”

“Jumping out at you?” he says. “Probably.” He hoists one leg over the hole, then the other, much to the surprise of Hermann, then lands heavily on the staircase just behind Hermann. He dusts off his lab coat.  “So,” the mad scientist says, “uh, I’m Newt. What’s your name?”

“Hermann.” It’s hard to make out Newt’s face from underneath the makeup and fake blood and the poor lighting to boot, but he has pleasantly round cheeks and a very nice smile that Hermann likes instantly.

“Hermann,” Newt repeats, and then goes and spoils the moment by waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. “You come here often, then?”

Hermann makes a face and begins ascending the stairs once more. “Not if I can help it,” he says. He’s lost Mako, Tendo, and Raleigh, but he’s got a new companion, evidently—Newt’s trailing after him, hands shoved into his lab coat pockets.

“Not your scene?” Newt says.

Hermann shakes his head.

“Well, don’t worry,” Newt says, and winks cheekily. “I’ll protect you from— _fuck_ —!” An animatronic skeleton swings out at them from another gaping hole in the wall, and Newt jumps and grabs onto Hermann’s left arm.

“How heroic,” Hermann says dryly, and pats Newt’s hand. Newt does not let go, but Hermann finds he doesn’t really mind. “Why are you working here, exactly?” It doesn’t seem like Newt’s  _scene_ , either.

“I’m part time for the season,” Newt says, eyeing the dangling and fairly innocuous skeleton nervously. “I just love Halloween.” They step up another few stairs. Nothing else jumps out at them; Newt starts to relax. And talk more. “I’m a  _full time_  biologist, though,” he says. “So the mad scientist shtick isn’t totally a shtick.” He plucks at his lab coat. “I actually stole this from work.”

“You’ve covered it in fake blood,” Hermann says. “Doesn’t that count as some sort of contaminate?”

“Maybe,” Newt says, and shrugs. “I never actually wear it. I'm too cool for that. Anyway, what do you do?”

“I teach maths at the university nearby,” Hermann says, and Newt’s face lights up.

“Oh!” he says. “This—” he waves his hand over Hermann’s— _sensible_ —cardigan, tweed blazer, and glasses chain, “—isn’t a costume, then? I thought you were supposed to be a librarian or something. Math professor makes a lot more sense, though. Cool.” Hermann supposes he should be offended over the jab as his appearance, but Newt’s endearing in some odd, infectious sort of way. Like a particularly animated and particularly resilient weed.

They’ve reached the top of the staircase and Hermann’s colleagues are nowhere in sight, so he doesn’t let go of Newt’s hand quite yet. They wander out to the front of the house together, through a kitschy little graveyard of Styrofoam headstones engraved with terrible puns and more rolling fog.

“My shift’s over in five minutes,” Newt suddenly says, casual. He’s watching Hermann from the corner of his eye. “Just so you know. If you wanted to ditch this place and, uh, grab a drink or something.”

“A drink,” Hermann says, and then he realizes what Newt’s implying. “ _Oh_. Yes. I would like that.” He doesn’t imagine Tendo will be too upset if he calls it a night early. Especially considering the circumstances: Newt is even nicer to look at in the moonlight, faux blood splatters and all (and he does hope Newt has a change of clothing, or else they may not be let in to any bars), and though Hermann isn’t the type to run around falling for handsome strangers at Halloween attractions something about Newt feels  _different_. His clear interest in Hermann and his  _very_ sturdy arms doesn't hurt, either.

“Ha! Awesome!” Newt’s near-bouncing on his feet with excitement and beaming at Hermann, which is probably why he doesn’t see the chainsaw-wielding man in the hockey mask until he leaps out right in front of them. Newt swears loud enough to wake the dead and undead alike. “ _Shit_! Okay,” he says, as Hermann smothers his laughter behind his hand and the man in the hockey mask crouches behind a tombstone once more, “I’m so over this.” He starts dragging Hermann towards the exit, and Hermann goes more than willingly. “Let’s go, Hermann.”

 


End file.
